Coffee
by GiorgiaKerr
Summary: Booth and Brennan have a talk over coffee. BB. Fourth and final chapter up!
1. A Mission

**Spoilers: **Well, not really. The only spoilers in here, I've learned about from anyway.

**Disclaimer:** No, seriously, are these compulsory?

**Author's Note: **Coffee is good. Woohoo, fourth fic. Are they getting any better? Worse? Answers appreciated very much! And does anyone else find Booth's point of view way easier than Brennan's? Or is that just me? Oh well. Tell me if I should go on. I'm not sure. This is my first attempt at chapters...And a story with an actualy plot. Not that I know what it is yet. But It'll get there if I get enough reviews...Oooh, insentive...

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Booth thought as he drove through the city, towards the Jeffersonian.

Coffee. Their whole relationship was based on one thing. Coffee.

Well, according to Brennan, their entire relationship not only _involved_ coffee, it _depended_ on it. This, of course, didn't sit well with Booth, but he did have to admit, coffee was important. But, to be fair, he was twisting her words a little. Or a lot...

Whenever a case was getting her down, or him, they'd resorted to coffee to cheer each other up. Granted, he did it half for himself, so he didn't have to drink the insipid coffee they offered at the Jeffersonian, but he'd take her coffee in the mornings, take her to the diner for lunch, or even dinner. Most of the real, un-case-related conversations they had were had over coffee.

It'd also allowed him to touch her mouth. This was not something he could ignore. How long had he been wanting to do that? How many times had he imagined what her lips would feel like against his skin? Only every time he touched her, every time he saw her, every time he smelled her subtle perfume. Of course, he'd quickly made a joke of it, but when it had happened...it was...intense.

The only time he could remember _not_ yearning for the feel of her lips was when he saw her with Sully. _Sully_. Dear God, he hated that man. He had stolen His Bones, and taken her where Booth could not, without even a consideration for anyone else. People always say that they're happy if the one they love is. Boy, was that so far off the mark for Booth.

No, he was not happy for Brennan, she could have better. She could have him. He was far, far too jealous, too angry to convince himself that he was happy for her. Still, _for her_, he put on a brave face, convinced _her _that he was happy for them; His Bones and that creep, Sully.

But that was over, he told himself. Sully was gone. For a very long time. And she had stayed. And he was ecstatic. Of course, he hadn't shown this, either. This would have given him away, and made Brennan uneasy. No, instead, he played 'content'. While there was a party going on inside of him, his manner was calm, almost normal. Almost.

Booth dragged his thoughts back to coffee. Coffee was a sign that they cared; a sign that they knew each other well. It was also something the two had in common. So much of the time, the two simply could not understand each other, and though they both believed this is why their friendship was indeed so sturdy, it was still refreshing, _comforting_, to know that they had something they could share, something a little less macabre death.

He thought of this all as he walked into the Jeffersonian, looking for His Bones. He could see her on her platform, and for a minute he stopped, staring at her. He was so rapt, eh didn't notice Angela walk behind him until she leant forward and whispered in his ear.

"Having fun, G-Man? Undressing her with your mind?" He turned to look at Angela and tell her to shut it, when he heard Brennan call his name. Angela grinned, and then kept walking towards her office.

"Booth...What are you doing here? Did someone get murdered?" He winced at her bluntness.

"Hello, Bones. Hello, Booth, how are you?" - He imitated her voice, making her roll her eyes - "I'm well, thank you Bones. And yourself?" He continued this little one-man conversation until she called his name again.

"Booth, you never answered my question. Why are you here?" She hadn't meant it to sound rude, she'd just wanted to get his attention, and figured that small sentences were best, considering his present attention span.

"Well, Bones, since you are so nice and chatty today, I was wondering if you would like to take a break...You know, eat something, like a normal person?" She rolled her eyes again. "He quickly figured he wasn't getting very far, so he added, "I have some case files I'd like you to look over, too..."

"Well..." She weighed the pros and cons, trying to decide. He gave her his Charm Smile hooking his thumbs into his belt. She looked again at the remains in front of her. They could wait. After all, they had been buried for three hundred years.

She looked again at Booth. Oh, yes, they could wait. "Okay. Just give me a minute. I'm covered in dirt."

They both turned when they heard an irritated cry of, "It's not dirt!" from behind them. Booth laughed and Brennan smiled as she led the way to her office.


	2. Getting There

**Spoilers: **None, really...

**Disclaimer: **I suppose I'll just keeping writing random things here. Works well enough, I suppose.

**Author's Note: **I promise something will actually _happen_ this chapter. Well, maybe. If I get around to plotting something with an actual _plot_, perhaps. That could help. ANYway, enjoy the second chapter!

Brennan looked across the car at Booth, amazed. He was humming. And he seemed quite into it. She'd only ever seen him do anything like that once._ Yeah_, she thought wryly, _just before your apartment blew him up_.

Not a thing she liked to remember. But, in one way, it was a sort of turning point in their relationship. Really, that whole week was a turning point. Her nearly dying had had its benefits. Such as Booth in her apartment. She'd liked the way he looked there; he was so comfortable, splaying himself on her couch like he belonged there. Sure, it annoyed the hell out of her, too, but it had opened up a new chapter, so to speak.

When he'd spied her music collection, she'd been terrified. He teased her enough already; he didn't need _more_ ammunition. Then he'd found Foreigner. He'd looked confused at first when she'd relied to his skeptical, "Foreigner?" with a "Who doesn't?" look.

They'd danced. _She'd_ danced. With him. She wasn't a big dancer; one night out here and there with Angela, when forced. Well, that didn't happen too often anymore, either. But Booth had been so into it that she couldn't resist, and she'd quickly resorted to the childish air-guitars with him.

With anyone else, she knew she would have felt idiotic and self-conscious dancing to _Hot Blooded_ like a madwoman, but it was Booth. Booth knew her, even then, even that long ago. He knew her in ways she'd never _allowed_ anyone else to know her. Ironic, really, that the only way he didn't know her was Biblically, the way she 'knew' most men.

She had no idea what the tune was, but she knew it. She'd heard it before, some time ago. As a teenager she'd been a music fanatic, like most people her age. Only, for the most part, she hadn't been into the same things they were. Sure, she'd crank Foreigner, or Meatloaf just as loud as everyone else, but she had truly lived for jazz.

She smiled as she remembered perfectly the smooth saxophone solos of Coleman Hawkins, and the blasting, soulful trumpet of Miles Davis. Faultless recollection was definitely one of the perks of being a genius. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the window.

Booth looked over at her. She seemed deep in thought, but not troubled like she usually looked when she was thinking. She was smiling. _Good_, he thought, _Be happy, Temperance. _He stopped humming, too busy looking at her, too lost in his thoughts to remember the rest of the song.

He honestly couldn't remember what that song _was_. He was humming it because it had been stuck in his head for days, but he couldn't recall the words at all. He forced his attention back to the road. _It won't help your situation if you kill her, Booth_, he though to himself.

A few minutes passed in a newly discovered comfortable silence, and soon they were at the diner. Booth stopped the car and ran to Bones' side to open her door. She shot him a look. He could tell she was holding back and insult, but she was also holding back a smile. He flashed her his widest charm smile and led her inside, and, pushing his luck, positioned his hand on the small of her back.

She was still in her own little world when the car pulled up at the diner. It wasn't until he opened her door that she realized, with a shock, that they were there already. She both hated and enjoyed his small chivalrous acts, such as this. She had only really hated them for a while, before she'd realized that they weren't _meant_ to be chivalrous, just...Booth.

The music in her head didn't stop playing, however, until he touched her. This was another of his mannerisms she enjoyed. Far, _far_ too much. Though she'd never admit it to anyone, including herself, she relished in the small moments of contact she shared with Booth; a touch on the arm, his hand on her back, his shoulder touching hers as he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

God, she loved it when he did that. Again, far too much for her own good. He did it all too much in interrogation rooms, too, and it sent her thoughts unhealthily away from the case. She was a focused woman. Ha! Not with Booth's warm breath painfully lingering on her jaw.

She shook her head. Bad train of though to continue here; in public. With Booth's hand still on her back. Her legs hit something, and she realized they were at their table. Shaking her head again, she sat down across from him.

"Bones? Y'okay?" Her head snapped up, and she was met with Booth's eyes of concern. She was slightly flustered from all this. _Stop this, Brennan,_ she commanded herself, _Angela's getting to your head_. She made a mental note to talk to Angela later, and suddenly realized she hadn't answered Booth's question.


	3. The Conversation

**Spoilers: **Not really.

**Disclaimer: **I hate my maths teacher.

**Author's Note: **Uhh...Okay, so maybe nothing happened in that _last_ chapter (SORRY!) but something's bound to happen here. I really hope so...We'll see how we go. And there's actually a whole _conversation_. Aren't you proud?

* * *

"Yeah, Booth, I'm fine. Just thinking." _True enough_, she figured.

"About what? Case got you down?" he asked. There was a certain mockery and playfulness in his tone as he wriggled in his seat childishly, but he was also deeply concerned about his partner. He hated it when she was troubled by a case. He knew she liked to distance herself from it all. And he also knew why.

Working the way he did, solving murders, _not_ solving murders, it was harder than he could explain. But it was bearable with her. She knew how he felt about things; she normally felt the same way.

"No, Booth, I _do_ think about other things, you know? I have a life _outside_ of work." She was irritated now. She knew he was genuinely concerned, but she didn't want Booth to figure her out; to read her mind, like he usually could. She was thinking too much that she didn't want him to know. _Couldn't let_ him know, for both their sakes.

"Whoa, Bones! Calm down, I was just asking a question. Geez, take a pill." He muttered the last bit, and she creased her brow in question. Booth laughed.

It had always amazed him how their conversations could change so dramatically in just one comment. They could go from being perfectly serious, to fighting, to bantering in a matter of minutes.

It's what made their relationship so unique; so special. It's what made their relationship _work_.

Besides, no one Brennan knew could diffuse an awkward silence as well as Booth could. Even Angela, who just talked non-stop to everyone about things she really shouldn't. Hodgins, well, he'd just leave as soon as the conversation was over, or interrupted, or the spotlight was off him. And Zach was the one who usually _caused_ the awkward silences. But not Booth. Booth was the master of words; of people.

She admired him for that.

The waitress came over and they both ordered. Booth was surprised to hear her order a full meal, but quickly recovered as his stomach growled in agreement with her. He turned red and looked at her apologetically; Brennan laughed.

"You don't need to be embarrassed by that, Booth." She looked at him haughtily, playing his game and winning, by the look on his face. "It's a biological inevitability. Your stomach starts trying to digest the food that it 'thinks' is in your stomach, but because there's nothing there, the stomach muscles just move around aimlessly, and makes the stomach acids..." she searched for a term Booth would understand, "...slosh around."

By now, all cockiness was gone; she was simply stating fact like she would have at the lab. "You should eat a better breakfast."

He groaned. "Okay, firstly, Bones, ew. And secondly, do you really have to discuss 'stomach acids' in a restaurant?" He pulled a face and shuddered deliberately, making an "Eeeuch" sound that reminded her all too much of Parker.

Brennan tried to scowl at his juvenile behavior, but only really succeeded in looking like she had been poked. After a second she gave up and burst out laughing at Booth's still scrunched up face.

By the time the waitress came back with their food, both were in fits of laughter. It felt good to laugh, for both of them.

Booth picked up a fry and pointed it at her. "You, Doctor Brennan, need to learn some restaurant etiquette."

She looked at him in mock offence. "And you, Agent Booth, need to learn how to talk to women. Despite what you _think_ you know, it's perfectly obvious that you know nothing by the fact that you can't hold a steady relationship."

She was expecting him to retaliate along the same lines, after all, neither could she, so she was shocked when he pointed another fry at her and said, perfectly calmly, and very deliberately, "Can't, or don't _want_ to?"

He knew he was treading thin ice, now, as he stared into her perfect cerulean eyes. She seemed torn between scared and confused as she studied him, trying to read his expression. For what seemed like the longest time, she couldn't decide whether or not he had been joking, playing their game.

She finally settled on not. By now their food was completely forgotten and they stared at each other in a silent ardor for what felt like an age. Brennan opened her mouth to speak.

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**Oooh, tricky. Cliffhanger!!! Yeah, I know, I suck at these. Review and I will be very happy and update quickly!!**

**Your faithful servant,**

**Giorgia**


	4. Run

**Spoilers: **No.

**Disclaimer: **Self-assessment homework tasks suck.

**Author's Note: **I don't actually know if Brennan hates taxis, but it made things a lot easier...This is the fourth chapter and I hope you all enjoy it tremendously!! Leave reviews and I'll reply, I promise! I'll also update more.

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She looked at him for what seemed to him like the longest time, her mouth open, saying nothing. _Speechless_, he thought,_ I've made her speechless. Fantastic timing, Seeley, _he mentally scolded.

She looked at him for a very long time. At first she wasn't sure if his comment was directed _at her_, but the more she looked, the more she was sure it was. Her chest tightened, and she found it hard to breathe normally, to keep control, and the familiar butterflies wormed their way into her stomach, making her repulsed by the food in front of her.

She was scared.

More than that, she was terrified. This was the feeling she got when she was in an enclosed space. _This_ was the 'moment' between her and Booth that she had been dreading. She had known it was coming; she really _did_, against all better reason, listen to Angela. But they were friends.

"...I..." she stammered. They were more than friends, really. They always had been.

She shoved her chair out, and sprinted out of the diner. Maybe if she left the room she could push it all away, or pretend like it was nothing. She couldn't do this in _there_, with Booth's questioning eyes reading her mind.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, Brennan_, she lectured.

She stopped when she got to the car, just around the corner. She knew Booth would come after her, but she also hoped with every fiber of her being that he wouldn't. But she knew him better than that. Of course he would come. He was Booth.

Booth was shocked when she left so abruptly. He wasn't sure she'd even pick up on his comment's subtext. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_, he cursed himself. Of course she would! This was His Bones. She wasn't good with people, but she knew him, she could read his mind as well as he could read hers, though she didn't know it.

He may as well have just blurted out, "I love you." Even if that wasn't his intention, he realized the way it must have come across to her, and he swore at himself again as he left the diner, slapping a bill on the table as he did.

He knew she couldn't have gone far. After all, they'd driven there together, and he knew she didn't like taxis. Not that he believed she would, though he wouldn't put it past her. His Bones didn't just run away from things like normal people.

She was special.

As soon as he rounded the corner he saw her, leaning against the car, arms wrapped around herself tightly. She looked cold, and he fought the urge to take his jacket off and give it to her; that would just alarm her more, and that was not something he was willing to risk. Besides, it wasn't a cold day.

He knew her stance wasn't temperature related.

She looked up. He was standing at the corner, looking at her from a distance. She was glad he hadn't come any closer. He knew she needed time, and he'd respected that, but he'd still come. And that meant a lot.

God, she was so confused. She was irritated that Booth had said what he had, frustrated that she couldn't handle it, happy that he'd 'said' what he didn't. But she was still terrified. She was sure they could never take things back to the way they were before. Not now. Of that, she was sure. This had changed everything; this thing that Booth _hadn't _said.

But she'd liked them the way they were before. They both knew they were attracted to the other, but this line they'd put up, this stupid, proverbial line had made things clear. They couldn't act on this. Hell, they couldn't speak of it. And this was why.

He looked at her from up the street. Because of the time of day, the street was almost deserted, and he could see her clearly, against the black car, he couldn't help thinking how beautifully pale her skin was.

Slowly, she pushed herself away from the car, like a cautious animal. They each took a step closer. She really didn't want to do this, but she knew she had to. For both of them. _For them._ It seemed like an ironic time for that thought, and she almost laughed at herself.

He saw her smile, and he wondered what she was thinking of. Why was she smiling now? After she'd run out on him, he had the horrible thought that he'd never see her smile again. He smiled, too, cautious. After all, he wasn't sure if she was smiling at _him_.

She saw him smile, and she wondered why; then she realized she was smiling, too. She looked up at him, her smile widening. He grinned as wide as seemed physically possible. He looked ridiculously like a child, and she burst out laughing at exactly the same time he did.

They stood like that, two metres apart, laughing at nothing in particular, except maybe themselves for what seemed like five minutes. It was, in fact, only a few seconds, until he ran to her and grabbed her waist, swinging her around in a circle like she was five years old.

He stopped, holding her just off the ground, his arms wrapped securely around her waist and back. She looked down at him, still smiling, but still slightly nervous. He was grinning through to his eyes, looking intently at her. No, she wasn't scared anymore.

They were both still smiling when he kissed her, ever so lightly, on the mouth.

When he pulled away, she was looking at him earnestly, a whisper of a smile still on her face. He placed her on the ground skillfully, still holding her firmly, not losing any of the contact that they shared.

He placed their foreheads together, nudging her nose with his, making her laugh nervously.

"No, Bones. I changed my mind. I _most definitely_ want to," he said with a smile as he kissed her again.

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Tell me what you think!! I need reviews to keep going!! Or else I'll...fizzle out! It'll all go "POOF!!" like a magician (But probably less gracefully...)

This'll be the last chapter, I think. I know the ending is a little...odd. But I mean, it's fan fiction. We write it _because_ it'll never actually happen _on _the show, don't we?

Ah, the powers of coffee...


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